Is that a farm, Mommy? Is that a farm?

After hearing the question repeated at least four times "Is that a farm, Mommy?" the slightly confused woman looked down into her daughter's young eyes and spoke: "Yes it's a farm."

And there it was - clearly defined for us - we could finally acknowledge that what we have here is a farm. It wasn't just us calling it a farm in a joking manner - it was a proclamation, thought out and honestly expressed by a person we didn't even know.

We live in the suburbs along a popular trail that's heavily used by walkers, runners, and bikers. Our farm is visible to anyone looking, and we're close enough to hear conversations - some of which include comments about our house - I mean farm.

We grow food, tend bees, raise chickens (both for eggs and meat), have large compost piles, and prioritize our lives accordingly.

We don't sell anything, but we do share the abundance with friends and neighbors. We have a small house on a small patch of land (less than 1/4 acre), but here we are - living our lives on the farm.

Yes, It's a farm.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Bawk, Bawk, Bawky!



Bawky-Sioux is a Barred Rock chicken. She is number four in the peck order. Her nick-name is "Bawky-Love-Bug" because she is such a sweet girl. She's a camera-hog, which makes for some goofy close-ups.

Bawky was one of the three barred rocks we bought in 2010. Her sisters, Sioux-Bawka and Pecky-Sioux have gone to the great chicken ranch in the sky, but Bawky is a survivor.

Bawky laid lots of eggs last fall when all the other girls were resting their ovaries. In December, she molted HARD. She lost almost all her feathers in one day. She started staggering around like a drunk. I told her to lay off the sauce.

The next morning, Bawky-Sioux was not coming off the roost, and Tammy Wynette, the head chicken was staying with her. Tammy was protecting Bawky from the other chickens. Chickens are not nice to each other when they suspect illness or injury. It's natures way of keeping the flock healthy. I gently took Bawky-Sioux off the roost and put her near the food and water. She wobbled as she tried to walk, and Gener the Ameraucana chicken immediately attacked her.

We had to separate Bawky from the flock for her own safety. We have another chicken run adjacent to the main run where our poor drunk girl could sleep it off in peace.

I fed her scrambled eggs and baby vitamin drops for a week and a half. Maybe the eggs & vitamins worked, maybe she recovered on her own, but I'm glad she's back.

Bawky-Sioux now reintegrated with her flock, and is thriving with a luxurious new coat of feathers.

"Bawk-bawk-bawk-bawk, bawda-bawk-bawk-bawk!"